The mediator
by blacklipgloss98
Summary: Heather is a mediator-in other words shes dead people.And they wont leave her alone untill she helps them.But Alejandro,the hot ghost haunting her bedroom,doesnt need help.Which is relief. But the very frist day of her new school,Heather sees is not easy.
1. Black Leather and Plam Trees

D: I havent made a story in the longest time:{ stupid schoolness. But I deciced snice I have had NO ideas for my last HeatherXAl fanfic. I have a new one:] with ALL the chapters planned out,oh yeah. Thank you one hour long study hall :D ...Chapter onee...

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They told me there'd be plam trees.

I didnt believe them,but thats what they told me. The told me I'd be able to see them from the plane.

Oh,I know they have plam trees in southern California,I mean,Im not a complete moron,

I've watched _90210_ and everything. But I was moving to northern California. Not after my mom told me not to give away all my sweater.

"Oh no,"My mom had said. "You'll need them. Your coats,too. It can get cold there. Not as cold as New York,maybe, but pretty chilly."

Which was why I wore my black leather jacket on the plane. I could have shipped it,I guess, with the rest of my stuff, but it kind of made me feel better to wear it.

So there I was,sitting on the plane in a black leather jacket,seeing these plam trees through the window as we landed. And I thought, Great. Black leather and Plam Trees, Already fitting in,just like I knew I would..._ Not._

My mom isnt particularly fond of my leather jacket, but I swear I didnt wear it to make her mad,or anything. I'm not resentful of the fact that she decided to marry a guy who lives three thousand miles away,forcing me to leave school in the middle of my sophomore year.

Oh yeah, I'm not a bit resentful.

The thing is,I really do like Andy,my new step-dad. He's good for my mom. He makes her happy.

It's just this moving-to-California thing that bugs me.

Oh,and did I mention Andy's three other kids? They were all there to greet me when I got off the plane. My mom,Andy,and Andys three sons.

Sleepy,Dopey,and Doc. I call them. They're my new stepbrothers,joy.

"Heather!" Even if I hadnt heard my mom squealing my name as I walked though the gate,I wouldnt have missed them.

Andy was making his two youngest boys hold up and sign that said "** WELCOME HOME HEATHER"**

Everybody getting off my flight was walking by it going "Aw how cute" to there companions,and smiling at me in their sickening way.

Oh yeah. I'm fitting in. I'm fitting in just great.

"Okay..." I said walking up to my new family fast. "You can put the sign down."

But my mom was to busy hugging me to pay any attention.

"Oh heathie!" I hate when anybody but my mom calls me Heathie, so I shot the boys this mean look over her shoulder. They just keep grinning at me from over the stupid sign, Dopey, because he's to dumb to know any better, Doc-well, I guess because he might have been glad to see me. Doc's weird that way.

Sleepy-The oldest, just stoond there.

"How was your flight kiddo?" Andy took my bag off my shoulder, and put it on his own.

He seemed surprised by how heavy it was,and went,

"Whoa,what've you got in here anyway? You know its a felony to smuggle New York City fire hydrants across state lines."

I smiled a huge fake smile. Andys a really big goof,but he's a nice big goof,but I wasnt fond of chessy jokes.

" It's not a fire hydrant,"I said."Thats just my tank tops. I have four more bags."

"Four?"Andy pretended he was shocked. He knew I had boat-loads of clothes. I only brought 1/4th of my clothes,giving the others to GoodWill.

"What do you think your doing,moving in or something?" Did I mention that Andy thinks his a comedian? He's not. His a carpenter.

"Oh Heathie!," My mom kept saying."I'm so gald your here! You're just going to love the house. It just didnt feel like home at frist,but now that you're here...Oh, and wait untill you've seen your room. Andys fixed it up so nice..."

Andy and my mom spent weeks before the got married loooking for a house big enough for all four kids to have their own rooms. They finally settled on this huge house in the hills of Carmel,which they'd only been able to afford because they'd bought it in this completely wretched state,and this construction company Andy does a lot of work to fix it up. My mom has been going on for days about my room,which she keeps swearing is the nicest in the house.

"The view!" She kept saying. "An ocean view from the big bay window in your room! Oh,Heather,your going to love it! All right, Let's get your bags." Then raising her voice she called, "Jake,come on!"

She had to call sleepy by his name,snice he looked as if he fell alseep standing up.

This was my frist trip to California,and let me tell you, even though we were still only in the airport, You could tell we werent in New York anymore.

But that didnt appear to be a problem.

But you know what is strange, Everybody here was just way calm.

I guess I could see why. I mean, it didnt look to me like there was anything to get upset about. Outside, the sun was beating down on those palm trees, There were seagulls scratching around the parking lot.

Unreal.

Lindsey-she was one of my best friends back in Brooklyn-told me before I left that I'd find advantages to having three brothers. I didnt believe her at all untill, Sleepy picked up two of my bags,and Dopey grabbed the other two,leaving me with excatly nothing to carry. I realized what she was talking about. They can carry really heavy stuff, and not even look like it's bothering them.

Hey, I packed those bags. I knew what was in them. Let me tell you, they were not light.

My bags secure,we headed out into the parking lot. As the automactic doors opened,everyone including my mom, reached into a pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. Apparently, they all knew something I didnt know. And as I stepped outside,I realized it was sunny.

Not just _sunny_, but bright-so bright and colorful, it hurt your eyes. I had sunglasses for sure-13 pair to be exact- but snice it had been about forty degrees and sleeting when I left New York, I hadnt thought to put them anywhere easily accessible.

As I stoond in the parking lot, squinting at the hills surrounding the San Jose International Airport, I saw that there were a lot of hills, and the grass on them was dry and brown.

But dotting the hills were these trees,, trees not like any I'd ever seen before. They were squashed on top as if a giant fist had come down from the sky and given them a thump. I found out late these were called cypress tree.

As we drove off arching above all the trees, a sky so blue,so vast, that the hot-air balloon I saw floating through it looked impossibly small- like a button at the bottom of an Olympic sized swimming pool.

Being from New York, my glimpses of ocean-at least the kind with a beach- had been few and far between. I couldnt help gasping when I saw it. And when I gasped,everybody stopped talking.

"What?,"My mother asked,alarmed.

" Nothing,"I said. I was ebarrassed. Obviously,these people were used to seeing the ocean, They were going to think I was some kind of freak, that I was getting so excited about it.

"Just the ocean."

"Oh,"My mother said."Yes isnt it beautiful?"

Dopey went, "Good curls on those waves. Might have to hit the beach before dinner."

"Not untill you've finished your term paper." Added his father.

"Aw dad!"

This prompted my mother to launch into a long detailed account of the school to which I was being sent to, the same one Sleepy,Dopey,and Doc attended. The school, named after Junipero Serra, some Spanish guy who came over in the 1700's.

I wasnt really listening to my mother. My intrest in school has always been pretty much zero. The whole reason I hadnt been able to move out here before Christmas was that there had been no space for me at the Mission .

"Um, Mom. When was this school built again?"

The eighteenth cetury,"Doc replied. "The mission system,implemented by the Franciscans under the guidlines of the Catholic Chruch and the Spainish government,was set up not only to the Christianize the Native Americans,but also to train them to become successful tradespeople in the new Spanish society. Originally,the mission served as a-"

"Eighteenth century?"I said,leaning forward. I was wedged between sleepy and Dopey.

I could feel my heart starting to pound hard,as if I'd been running for miles.

"Thats like _three hundred years old!_"

"I dont get it?"Andy implied.

We were driving through the town of Carmel now,all the picturesque cottages,beautiful little restaurants, and art galleries. Andy had to drive carefully now because the traffic was thick with people in cars and out-of-state licenses.

"What's so bad about the eighteenth century?"

"Heathie has never been very wild about old buildings."My mother said,without any inflection in her voice.

"Oh,"Andy said. Then I guess she isnt going to like the house."

I gripped the back of my head rest. "Why?" I demanded in a tight voice. "Why am I not going to like the house?"

I saw why,of couse. The house was huge,and impossibly pretty,with Victorian style turrets and a widows walk. My mom had had it painted blue and white cream, and it was surrounded by big,shady pine trees, and sprawling flowering shrubs. Three stories high,constructed entirely from wood, it was the lovelist,most tasteful house in the neighborhood.

And I didnt want to step foot in it.

I knew I'd agreed to move in with my mom, and I had also agreed to alot of changes.

The biggest change was going to be sharing my mom with other people. In the decade snice my father had died,it had just been the two of us. And I had to admit I kinda liked it that way. But if it hadnt been for the whole"Andy makes mom happy" thing, I would have put my foot down and said heck no to the whole friggen thing.

My mother keeps glancing in my direction as we climbed the many steps to the front porch. I knew she was nervous about what I was going to think. I was kind of irked at her,really, for not warning me. About the house that is.

Because my moms right: I dont like old buildings.

"Come on Heathie,Come see your new room." I couldnt help but shudder.

My room was upstairs,just above the roof of the front porch. My mother had been going on nervously for almost the entire trip about the window seat Andy had installed in my room. The seat look out over the same view as the porch, that sweeping vista that incorporated all the peninsula. It was sweet of them,really, to give me such a nice room,the room with the best view in the whole...old...house.

And when I saw how much trouble they'd gone to, to make the room feel like home to me-or atleast the excessively feminine,phantom girl...not me. I had never been the glass-topped dressing table,princess phone type-how andy had put cream-colored wallpaper, dotted with blue forget-me-nots, all along the top of the intricate white wainscoting that lined the walls.

I felt bad about the way I acted in the car. I really did. I thought to myself as I walked around the room,_ Okay this isnt to bad. So far your in the clear,Maybe it will be alright,maybe no one was ever unhappy in this house,maybe all those people who died here derserved it..._

Untill I turned toward the bay window,and saw that somebody was already sitting on the window seat Andy had so lovingly made for me.

Someone who was _not_ related to me,or to Sleepy,Dopey,or Doc.

I turned toward my mother, to see if she'd noticed the intruder. She hadnt, even though he was right there in front of his face. All she saw was my face. I guess my expression must not have been the most pleasant,snice her own fell, and she said with a sad sigh,

"Oh,Heathie,not again."

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A little confused? Thats good:3 This chapter kinda sucked, it just showed alittle bit about her life and whatnot. But keep on readingg, it gets better soon, pinky promise.


	2. New room, New Ghost

Chapter two:], and never try typing a whole chapter with fake . Thats all I have to say.

I guess I should explain. I'm not extactly your typical sixteen year-old girl.

Oh, I_ seem_ normal enough, I guess. I dont do drugs,or drink,or smoke. I dont have anything pierced,except my ears. I dont have any tattoos either. I've never dyed my hair. I dont wear an excessive amount of black. I dont even wear dark fingernail polish.

All in all,I am a pretty normal,everyday teenage girl.

Except,of couse,for the fact that I can talk and see the dead.

Well,I probably shouldnt be so blunt. I should probably say that the dead talk to me, in a way.

I mean,I dont go around initiating these fact,I try to avoid the whole thing as much as possbile.

It's just that sometimes they wont let me. The ghost I mean.

I dont think I'm crazy. At least,not any craizer than you average sixteen year old. I guess I might seem crazy to some people. Certainly the majority of kids in my old neightborhood thought I was nuts. Sometimes I even think it would be simpler just to let them lock me up.

But even on the ninth floor of Bellevue-which is where they lock up the crazy people-I probably wouldnt be safe from the ghosts. They'd still find me.

They always do.

I remember my frist ghost. I remember it as clearly as any of my other memories of that time,which is to say,not very well, snice I was about two years old. I guess I remember it about as well as I remember taking a mouse away from our cat and cradling it in my arms...I was two okay!

The ghost,like the mouse, was little,gray, and helpless. To this day, I dont know who shes was. I spoke to her,some baby gibberish that she didnt understand. Ghost cant understand baby gibberish for sure.

She just looked at me sadly from the top of the stairs of our apartement building. I felt sorry for her,and wanted to help her. Only I didnt know how. So I did what any uncertain two-year old would do... run for her mommy.

That was when I learned my first lesson concerning ghost: only I can see them.

Well,obviously, other people _can_ see them.

How else would we have haunted houses and ghost stories and _Unsloved Mysteries_ and all of that?

But theres one difference. Most people who see ghost only see one. I see _all_ ghost.

Anybody. Anybody who has dided and for whatever reason is hanging around on Earth instead of going wherever it is, he or she is surppose to go.

I'm not saying my mother figured out that it was a ghost I was pointing to and gibbering about that afternoon,I doubt she knew it. She probably thought I was tyring to tell her something about the mouse. But she looked up gamely up the stairs and nodded and said, "Uh-huh. Listen, Heathie. What do you want for lunch today? Grilled Cheese?Or tuna fish?"

I hadnt exactly expected that reaction.

I had expected aleast an _acknowledgment_ of the thing floating at the top of the stairs. I was given explanations for virtualy everything else I encoutered on a daily basis, from fire to electrical outlets. But why not ghost?

But as I sat muncing my grilled cheese a little later, I realized that the reason my mother had offered no explanation for the gray thing was that she hadn't been able to see it. To her, it wasnt there at all.

At two years old,this didnt seem unreasonable to me. Over the years of seeing more and more of the little gray things I never discussed them...really. I saw them. They spoke to me. For the most part, I didnt understand what they were saying, what they wanted, and they usually went away. End of story.

It probably would havegone on like that indefitely if my father hadnt suddenly died.

Really. Just like that. One minute he was there, cooking and laughing in the kitchen, and the next day he was gone.

And, people keep assuring me all throughh the week following his death-which I spent on the stoop in front of our building, waiting for my dad to come home-he was never coming back.

I,of cousem didnt believe their assurances. Why should I? My dad, not coming back? Were they nuts? Sure, he might of been dead, but that didnt mean _I_ would never see him again. I saw lots of dead people on a daily basis.

It turned out I was right.

My dad was the one who finally explained it to me. So I guess, in a way, its a good thing he did die. snice I might never have known otherwise. About the whole seeing ghost thing.

I dont know how I got SO lucky-i mean, i am a normal in ever other respect. Well,almost,anyway. I just have this unfortunate ability to communicate with the dead.

Not just _any_ dead either-the unhappy dead. So you can see that my life has really been just a bowl of cherries these past sixteen years!

Imagine-being haunted-literally haunted- by the dead,every single minute of every single day of you life. Example number one:

You go down to the deli to get a soda-opps,dead guy on this corner. Somebody shot him. And if you could just make sure the cops get the guy who did it, he can finally rest in peace.

And all you wanted was one sada.

Example number two.

You go to the library to check out a book-oops, the ghost of some librarian comes up to you and wants you to tell her nephew how mad she is about what he did wit her cats after she kicked the bucket.

And those are just the folks who know why they're sticking around. Half of them dont have any idea why they havent slipped offinto the afterlife like they're suppposed to.

Which is irritating because,of couse, I'm the schmuch who's supossed to help them get there.

Im the mediator.

Sometimes they can get rough, I mean they try to hurt people. On purpose. Thats when I usually get mad. Thats when I usually feel compelled to kick a little ghost butt, what? I do have a evil side thank you.

Which was what my mom meant when she said,"Oh Heather, not again." When I kick ghost butt, tings have a tendency to get a little messy.

Which is why I turned my back on the ghost and said, "Never mind mom, Everything is fine! The room is great. Thanks soo so much."

I could tell she didnt believe me. It's hard to fake out a mom. I know she suspects there's something up with me. She just cant figure out what it is. Which is probably a good thing because it would shake up the world as she knows it in to major a way. I mean,shes a televison news reporter. She only believes what she can see. And she cant see ghost.

"Well,"She said, "I'm gald you like it. I was sort of worried. I know how you get about old places."

Old places are the worst for me because the older a building is,the more chance there is that someone has died itn it, and that he or she is still hanging around.

"Really, Mom," I said, "It's great I love it."

Andy hearing this, hustled around the room all excitedly,showing me the clap-on,clap off lights, and various other gadgets he'd installed. I followed him around,expressing my delight, being careful not to look in the ghost's direction. It was really sweet, how much Andy wanted me to be happy. And I was determined because he wanted it so much, for me to be happy.

"Is it really all right heathie?" my mom wanted to know. "I know its a big change and all. I know it's asking a lot of you-"

I took off my leather jacket. I dont know if I've mentioned this, but it was pretty hot out for January. Like seventy. I'd nearly roasted in the car. "It's fine mom, really" I said.

So maybe it wasnt so unusual for my mother to be sitting there on my bed,talking about "fresh starts" and all of that. It was kind of weird that she was doing it while this ghost was sitting a few feet away, watching us. But whatever. She seemed to have a need to talk about how things were going to be much betther for me out here on the West Coast.

And if that's what she wanted, I was going to do my best to make sure she got it. I had already resolved not to do anything out here that was going to end up getting me arrested, so the was a start anyway.

"Well," my mom said, running out of steam after her you-wont-make-friends-unless-you-project-a-friendly-demeanoer-speach. My mom nodded and got up. Just as she was about to go out the door, she turned around and she said, her brown eyes all filled with tears," I just you to be happy heathie, Thats all I've ever wanted. Do you think you can be happy here?"

I have her a hug. "Sure mom," I said."Sure, I'll be happy here. I'm feeling at home already."Not all Lies.

"Really?" My mom was sniffling." You swear?"

" I do." And I wasnt lying either, I mean there'd been ghost in my bedroom back in Brooklyn all the time, too.

She went away and I shut my door quietly behind her.. I waited untill I couldnt hear her heels on the stairs anymore, and then I turned my head around.

"All right," I said to the presence of the window seat."Who the hell are you?"


End file.
